سەردەفتەرێ وەصفێن تەیە دیباجەیێ دلیەک قەطرە ژ لوطفا تەیە سیراجەیێ دلذکرێ تە دکت دوڕ و ضیا لەهجەیێ دلطەیرێ نەفەسا های و هوویا لەهجەیێ دل A…
Her cooking is the honeycombthat keeps him succulent.He is seated, King Kong, at the head of the table,she is unseen, in the kitchen,sweating in holy…
The pill passes fondly between hands, Overhead the sky is filled with the wretched screaming of some thousands of cicadas,The stars gather watching. It is bright…
i always eat the same foodsrice and beans and a side of something or otheri always go to the same placediners with coffee, greek salads…
In my dreams, my teeth commonly crackand fall out of my mouth. When my gumsgive way, there is a soft crumbling, a gritty feelingas I…
Snaking through mesquiteand saguaro, a long lineof jibber-jabber, pink-necked tourists mufflethe words of the Zapotecguide who shows usa geometry of amaranthand maize we have always…
After “Spanish Lady”, Irish traditional White crane walking like a bagOut of the hatch of rosemary.The white crane tugs and fades.Two brothers love the same…
Only barbarians are notcurious about where they comefrom, how they came to be wherethey are, where they appear to begoing, whether they wish to gothere,…
1928: My grandfather, a civil servantin British India, surveyed Sirsa District on camel back. Irrigated fields reaped oats and barley in autumn,mustard and grams in…
The sound of a warm body for a cold nightcan easily be mistaken for the hum of love,and maybe it was, for a second.This is…
I rearrange my grandmother in loose-leaf pages,each poem a memory, a sterling trinket in a felt pouchI keep by my side, often touching it throughoutthe…
You stand nakedalone in your roomlike a cradle.You step outinto the empty woods.You’re flying then a person appears, then anotheruntil a crowd is around you.Without…
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
This baby, my gold. This banana plantation, hers.This wild bush, hers.This worm-laced dirt, hers. She will build me a house with wooden shutters and a…
You think with his death there will be the trembling of heaven and earth, but no, only silence coming from the furrowed field, where He’d…
Grandma moves sunflower-faced in the kitchen, her hands breaking like leaves. Outside, deer eat the flowers. Long stretches of land where we search for golf-balls,…
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Memory is the sense of loss and loss pulls us after it.Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping The air tonight invites the dense warren of smoke from your…
This is a perpetual mourning poem. If you were told to livefast, you’ll be aghast at life’s stretch,a thing too long for haiku, sinceelegies have…
All this contradictory newsobviously spewsdigitized perplexities of truth: clattering electrons andcross-eyed geesesparkly and smartly sneezing liberal this, conservative that; flying smack-dabbit into windowstranslucent glass walls…